Somebody put a fork in me because I’m done: I am officially calling for an embargo on Valentine’s Day and all its associated shenanigans (except for the chocolate that goes on sale the day after, since I haven’t completely lost my mind). This year, I’m not

I feel a little homeless during the holidays, fighting competing urges to be super-festive and to seclude myself at an ashram in India until the Rockefeller Center tree has been taken down. You’ll note that there’s no happy medium between these options. Such is my life.